Visit me in my dreams
by UnluckyAmulet
Summary: Whenever she's alone, Tetra speaks to her mother's portrait, remembering fragments of her hidden life. Because it can't be easy waiting for destiny to come to you.


Disclaimer: I do not own Zelda, dammit.

A sort of introspective piece on Tetra's character. Admittedly, I didn't think much of Tetra when I first played Windwaker, but she grew on me as the story progressed. (Although it is rather short, again. Why can I never make my Zelda stories long? Oh well.) Obviously WW-based, although faint allusions to Ocarina of Time.

Enjoy!

* * *

Tetra likes to think of herself as one with the ocean, even if it seems to be an obvious comparison.

After all, it was where she felt at home. Whether sailing on calm water, or struggling against a violent tempest, she loves it no matter what it's like. Her blonde hair seems to be permanently stiff with the briny air; skin bleached to tan by the sun. Eyes that are, in some lights at least, the same brilliant blue as the ocean. And yes, the constant shifting in demeanour also reminds her of herself. Although she wouldn't tolerate such comments from anybody else.

But what she thought made her most like the sea?

Mystery.

Tetra knows that she has a certain purpose to fulfil. Her mother told her that, a long time ago. Tetra cannot remember exactly what it was, or even if her mother was that specific, but she knows that, eventually, it will come. She has long since learnt that it will come when it's time, as she had spent a long time being impatient for it to arrive. Until then, she satisfies her curiosity and trepidation with the memories she has of her mother.

Not that they're particularly useful or even very strong. Each time she remembers, her mother seems to be blurred about the edges. The only real way Tetra can bring her back is looking at the portrait of her, and there is an ache in her chest when she looks into the face of her mother, the face she can hardly remember.

Her mother was beautiful. Breathtakingly so, like a queen or a fairytale illustration. Tetra doesn't really care that she doesn't look like her, but she likes to look at the portrait quietly sometimes, admiring it. All the while fingering the gold trinket on her neck, hidden beneath her scarf. The one trinket she would rather die then sell or trade away. The one her mother told her to give her life to protect.

She doesn't know if her crew know about the portrait, or the significance of her necklace. None of them are supposed to enter her room. Tetra pretends not to care what they think, but she doesn't want them to know she's vulnerable. They are, after all, all she's got. And if they think she's weak, she is scared they'll leave her. She suspects that they miss her mother's masterful leadership, although she covers this with her usual bravado.

A little bit of her wonders if they know anyway.

The secrets that her mother kept from her make Tetra feel strangely incomplete. As though she is a page that needs to be coloured in, the essentials there, but the things that make it whole still waiting. Comparing her murky, submerged past to the depths of the ocean might feel clever and poignant, but in reality there is a sense of loss and frustration too. She doesn't like the idea of passively sitting and waiting for her fate to come to her- perhaps it's being constantly at mercy of the sea's whims, or living purely for the present, but Tetra can't convince herself that she's really destined for anything.

Perhaps, deep down, there is even a little fear. Of what, she's not so sure. But it's hard to conquer fear when you don't know what you're afraid of.

When she meets the person who will be the hero- her hero- she doesn't like him at first. He's not brave or strong or smart. Not anything like she'd thought, just staring out into the horizon with a melancholy in his green eyes that doesn't match his young face. She mocks him for it, but secretly, that look unsettles her a little. She feels, bizarrely, like he's leaving her behind, like he's retreating into his own private place. She doesn't like that, the thought of never being able to reach him. Tetra has always liked to have control over things.

Link reminds her a little of the wind. He always seems to be there when she's looking for him, but he never stays in one place for long, constantly moving. It seems as though there is no stopping his determination to save his sister, and Tetra can't make up her mind if this is sheer stubbornness or spirit.

When he vanishes into the ghostly-grey concrete of the Fortress, she feels a little guilty, like maybe she should have given him some warning or some protection. So she entrusts him with her most valuable possession, after her necklace- the magic stone that she can look into, watching as the boy moves through the eerie silence. When she loses sight of him in the endless blue of the ocean, she is suddenly plagued with nightmares about swords and darkness and a sad, strangely familiar song. When she hears that song, she is inexplicably seized with then notion she's been waiting for it. As though she's heard it before, a long time ago.

Tetra doesn't know what these dreams mean, nor why she so yearns to hear that lullaby, but a voice in the back of her mind thinks that her mother is trying to tell her something important.

Too bad she's never been good with subtleties.

* * *

You cannot argue with a dead person, although Tetra has often tried it.

"It wasn't fair of you," she tells the portrait sometimes, frowning at it, wearing an expression of child-like indignation, "Leaving me like that. Do you know how hard it is running a ship with those idiots for a crew, especially when you're only twelve?"

That's not what she means, but she can't let go of her anger. Tetra sighs and glares at the ceiling. The ocean laps at the side of the ship, its calmness irritating her.

"Why couldn't you just have told me what I'm supposed to do, Mother?" Tetra mutters, sitting up on her bed and looking at the blonde woman in the picture, "Instead of giving me a necklace and some stupid warnings. What if it all goes wrong? Ever think about that?"

Tetra is met with an unsettling silence. Eventually, her patience reaching its (admittedly short) limit and fatigue sweeping through her, she lies down and closes her eyes, dreaming briefly of sailing through a hurricane. On the other side, there is an island.  
_  
_In the morning, she has forgotten to blow of a candle resting on her dressing table. Wax has trickled all down one leg, hardening into a thick shell, forming an ivory puddle on the floor. Tetra sighs and examines it, ready to pick it away with her fingernail. But the flame is still burning, despite being nearly submerged in wax and near the end of the string.

As Tetra looks at the portrait, there seems to be a reflection on the flame somewhere inside it. For the first time in a long while, fire burns in her mother's eye.

She grins, because she knows where to go now. Her mother has shown her the way.

* * *

_  
_And when she sees the Master Sword upon his back, something stirs within her. Subconsciously, she knew all along who Link really was, but it took her conscious mind a little longer to convince. But still, she knew. Tetra grasped at that knowledge, desperate to hold on to it, to finally solve the mystery. She imagines that sword as a key.

She doesn't know her accurate that feeling is.

And as Tetra watches Link, using the stone to stare, enraptured, as he finally slays that horrible monster of a bird, she thinks that maybe her mother was right in letting her wait for her destiny. She also can't help wondering when Link became this strong, without her realising it. And, most importantly, she decides as Link runs up towards the head of the Fortress, that she's going to help him no matter what.

And she thinks that maybe, as long as she's plumbing the depths of her distant memories with Link, then she can find the strength to finally find out the truth.

Elsewhere, a new breeze began to blow.


End file.
